


They Paint Wolves On Floor Fifteen, You Know

by wildenessat221b



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Just a bit of fun, M/M, Mostly Dialogue, Zoo, happy birthday darling!!, lets move to the countryside azzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22636642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildenessat221b/pseuds/wildenessat221b
Summary: Crowley has an appreciation for the spooky. That’s all there is to it. He promises.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	They Paint Wolves On Floor Fifteen, You Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waistcoat35](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/gifts).



> A birthday gift for the loml @waistcoat35, who you should all absolutely check out because she’s a genius. Very much curated for her, but it’s only short, so maybe give it a read if you’re not her too... would adore a comment if you did! 
> 
> Thanks, lots of love!

“They’re wolves really, y’know.”

Crickets chirped and a beat passed. 

“Are they now?”

“Not dogs at all. Big, ferocious wolves with massive jaws and enormous ears that can hear every twitch, every rustle... big wolves, clever wolves... dog my arse.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose, as he prodded an accusatory finger against the information board. A cartoon African painted dog grinned back at him like a docile terrier. 

“You shan’t be stowing one away in the Bentley then?” Aziraphale asked, primly examining his nail beds. 

“Pff, not in a hurry. Can’t domesticate an African painted dog, wouldn’t get one of those in ‘Pets At Home.’ Try and put a leash on one, lose your arm. Try and put a bow on one, lose your head. The ‘painted’ bit’s right though. Huge production line, floor fifteen where they do the leopards’ spots. Any dunce can do a leopard though, six week training course with Leo Da Vinci for the African painted dogs. Which are wolves. African painted wolves.” 

“I know, Crowley, I was in heaven rather more recently than you were.”

Crowley huffed. 

“Arright, don’t rub it in. Still floor fifteen then?”

“At last check.”

“Hmm. Not big on diversifying, are they? View’s nice on fifteen though, makes sense.”

“Crowley?”

“Yes Aziraphale.”

“Why are we here?”

It was Crowley’s turn to examine his nail beds. He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“It’s a nice day.”

Aziraphale shot him a pointed frown. 

“It is four o clock in the morning and there is a light drizzle in the air which is causing my carefully styled hair to tip over from ‘tasteful gentleman’ to bouffant.”

Crowley nodded slowly. 

“Shadows everywhere too, s’perfect innit. Nice and spooky.”

“Why are we at Chester zoo at four o clock in the morning during a light drizzle sure to make my poor barber’s life a whole lot more difficult?” He picked a leaf from the top of his head. 

“...wanted to talk to you. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t wait.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I have embraced the wonders of modern technology up to the year at least 1950.”

“Hmm?”

“I have a telephone.”

“Wanted to talk to you in person,” Crowley mumbled. 

“About?”

“About... about stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff pertaining to...”

“Stuff pertaining to...”

“Stuff pertaining to the idea of... the idea of... theideaofustalkingtoeachotherinpersonalotmorefrequently.”

“I’m sorry?”

Crowley’s tongue forked and narrowed, and he felt anxious scales begin to blossom along his spine. He groaned loudly and dropped his chin to his chest. He spoke lowly, in as measured a voice as one could while trying not to lose all four limbs out of sheer panic. 

“Stuff pertaining to the idea of us talking to each other in person a lot more frequently. Because we would be... seeing each other more often. Because we would...” the information board on African painted dogs suddenly became a RightMove ad. “Be living in the same house.”

“Oh.”

“South Downs. Very uh... spooky. Boring too, lovely and boring, or so you’d think, except it’s almost entirely populated by gossipy little old women, who between you and me have something of an affinity with either upstairs or downstairs, depending on what day you catch them on, which makes for the most entertaining of times. Anyway uh... s’bigger than it looks, y’know not that that matters really, we can always borrow some metaphysical gubbins if need be, and I thought, just for a bit, that a change of scenery might be a good thing to consider what with the whole apoca-maybe-not and -“

Aziraphale’s hand, although damp and cooled by the early morning chill, was warm on his wrist. 

“Sounds wonderful.”

Crowley blinked.

“What just... just like that?”

Aziraphale smiled softly.

“Dancing’s never been either of our things really, has it? Not really sure why we did it around each other for quite so long.”

Inside the enclosure, two African painted dogs gently touched snouts. Outside, the rain stopped.


End file.
